


Huh

by kojoiun



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kojoiun/pseuds/kojoiun
Summary: Mirage is searching for intel in Starscream's quarters and doesn't find exactly what he's looking for.  What follows could change the course of the war.Rating may change, not sure yet.Not beta'd, English is not my first language but doing my bestI'll be updating every Saturday-ish :)
Relationships: Barricade/Prowl, Mirage/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker (Transformers), Skywarp/Starscream/Thundercracker (Transformers), Sunstreaker/Sideswipe
Comments: 52
Kudos: 129





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Implied abuse, not on-screen, but be careful!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirage searches for intel on a weapon and instead finds three over-charged seekers.

Mirage rifled through the desk, skimming the data-pads he found buried under a random assortment of trinkets. "Report 17," one read, along with a date—three weeks ago. Promising. Maybe what he was looking for. He read on, squinting to make sense of the chicken-scratch handwriting. "Conehead trine seems to be glitching. Don’t know what that’s about. Have Dirge report to medbay." Mirage shuffled the report back in with the rest of the pads. Interesting, but no mention of the weapon Jazz had learned about. 

Time was running short. Mirage estimated seventeen clicks before the Command Trine returned from their reconnaissance flight, and one or more of them returned to their quarters. Even with invisibility on his side, it was hard enough to infiltrate the base, and harder still to reconcile the idea that not only did Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Starscream live together in meager quarters down the hall from the bridge, but that their quarters contained three individual berths, all pushed together into one large resting place. Strips of fabric and more trinkets and heavily-encrypted data-pads littered the berth, resembling a nest. Stupid birds. Mirage would have to share that one with the twins.

Then, footsteps outside the door. Mirage swore, phased into invisibility, and pressed himself up against a wall. He waited a moment, and another. He heard cackling outside the doorway, and the Decepticon SIC’s distinct screech.

The door opened and Mirage held his breath as the Decepticon’s best seekers flittered in, moving like a flurry of chattering younglings. All three had uneasy smiles plastered on their faceplates. Skywarp laughed and spun around, flopped down on the berth with a satisfied sigh. “See, Star, there’s no need to worry!” he said. Thundercracker followed, shoulder square. And Starscream entered last, closing the door behind him. Mirage noted a dent in his wing.

“Yeah,” said Thundercracker, letting out an easy laugh, low and rumbling. “No one saw.”

Starscream crossed the room, smile fading some as he slid down to sit against the wall opposite Mirage. Dangerously close, Mirage thought. He pulled a rust stick from his subspace and chomped on it. “Soundwave probably heard,” he said.

“Doubt it,” said Skywarp, and he vop’ed from the berth to Starscream’s side, snatched the rust stick out of his hand. “Gimme.”

Starscream snarled at his trine mate, but allowed the rust stick to leave his grip. Mirage expected violence. But instead, the seeker laughed. Skywarp shoved the rust stick in his mouth, chewed, swallowed. He twitched his wings just so, and Starscream twitched back, and Thundercracker, across the room, twitched too. Another giggle spilled from Skywarp’s lips. “Primus,” he said, teleporting back to his previous position, “I’m so slagged.”

Thundercracker tipped one wing in the air, kept the other low. “You both are.”

“I am not,” said Starscream. “I only had two cubes.”

And then Mirage realized why they hadn’t noticed the open drawer, the data pads strewn over the desk, the presence of an invisible mech in their private space. Here he was, standing against a wall, and the Command trine was absolutely overcharged. 

“You want another?” said Thundercracker, smile falling off his lips. He pulled a cube of high-grade from his subspace. “I have another. It’ll make it easier.”

“No,” said Starscream. “I’m fine.”

“Just remember, once you’re done with Old Megsy,” said Skywarp, still donning his smile, “Then you can come right back to us.”

Starscream rolled his optics. “Stupid twins.”

Mirage wracked his brain, trying to recall if there were any twins among the Decepticon ranks. Surely there were. Some of the drones? The cassetticons, Rumble and Frenzy, maybe? Unless—He thought back to the small skirmish this morning, on an open plain outside Omaha. A handful of Autobots defended an old energon deposit from a pair of seeker trines. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe knocked Skywarp from the air, prompting evasive maneuvers from the other two, yelling from Starscream, and a narrow escape for the teleporter. Megatron wasn’t present at the battle, he thought. 

“I don’t get why you’re getting punished,” said Skywarp. “I should get punished, honestly. Just once, I want to feel Megatron’s—”

“’Warp,” Thundercracker said with a glare.

Skywarp shut up fast.

Mirage watched them talk with their wings again, and noted how distinctly _normal_ they looked. Young, even. Not like mass murderers, terrors of the sky, nightmares swooping overhead. Skywarp’s bright optics conveyed a level of overcharge Mirage hadn’t felt in years. And Starscream, pouting in the corner, Thundercracker’s hand laid gentle on his shoulder. He made a note to look up the ages of the Command trine, once safely back with the Autobots.

“He’s comming,” Starscream said. It marked an abrupt end to their wing-talking. “Bye.” He stood up, shook out his servos, and left the room, door shutting quietly behind him.

Thundercracker sighed, climbed on to the berth and laid back against the wall. 

Skywarp scooted over to him, leaning on his shoulder. “He’ll be alright.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” said Thundercracker, squeezing his cube of high-grade.

“Yeah, good luck with that.” Skywarp took his cube, sipped it. “Megsy’s invincible.”

“One day,” said Thundercracker, optics glowing bright. He glanced up at the ceiling. “Star’s closing the bond. It’s not gonna be good.”

“Pry it open?” offered Skywarp.

Thundercracker ex-vented. “I should be able to protect him.”

“Ugh,” said Skywarp, peeling himself from Thundercracker’s shoulder and instead rolling up to his pedes. “This again. You’re torturing yourself, you know.”

“Maybe I deserve it.”

“I got the two most fragging dramatic bondmates on the planet,” said Skywarp. He tipped the cube of high-grade to Thundercracker’s lips. “You two are so lucky you have me. Imagine the angst if it was just you and him. _Woe is us_.”

“I am going to kill him, ‘Warp,” said Thundercracker. “You’ll see.”

Skywarp’s wings hiked up. He shook his head. 

Thundercracker took the cube back and drank it all down. “We should recharge. He’s not opening the bond anytime soon.”

Skywarp’s one wing lifted, the other sunk. 

Thundercracker shook his head. “Not without him.”

The purple seeker climbed back onto the berth, curling into Thundercracker’s side, tracing glyphs on his trinemate’s wing. Mirage watched, fascinated, as the two held servos and offlined their optics. As he snuck from their quarters, he made a mental tally of the day’s new intel: Command trine—boned, Thundercracker—as murderous as Starscream, Seekers—potential allies? Sure, no news on the weapon Jazz had sent him to learn about, but Mirage figured this was just as good. 

He couldn’t wait to tell the twins.

_To be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 preview: "No butterflies harmed in the making of this chapter."


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No butterflies harmed in the making of this chapter.  
> Releasing this one week earlier to get the series going.

"You grounded 'em once, I don't see why you can't do it again," Jazz said, servos on the table.

"He _bit_ me!" said Sideswipe, motioning to the still-healing marks in his neck cables, left by Skywarp's dente two cycles back.

Sunstreaker, under his breath, said, "Like you didn't like it, glitch," and Mirage had to stifle a laugh.

Sideswipe ignored them, continued, " _And_ he can teleport. How am I supposed to try to--what'd you glitch-for-brains call it?--get _through_ to him if he can just teleport away?"

"So ground a different one," said Jazz. "Thundercracker, maybe. That one seems level-headed."

"Oh, sure, and I'll get sonic-boomed halfway to Cybertron," said Sideswipe.

"Sounds like you're scared, Sides," Sunstreaker said, sing-songy.

Before the twins escalate into an argument, like always, Mirage added, "Think of how good it'll be for the cause, Sideswipe. They're clearly not happy under Megatron. If we can convince them to defect, that's his three best fliers out of the skies. Think of all the innocent lives--"

"And now they're ganging up on me!" said Sideswipe, arms open, optics on Jazz.

"Didn't seem to mind last night," said Sunstreaker, voice low, and this time, Mirage couldn't hold in the laugh.

"I just think this is a dumbaft plan," said Sideswipe, ignoring them again. "They're not gonna defect. They've been fighting for millennia, same as us. You think they'd just walk away from that, call it a day?"

"Stranger things have happened," said Jazz. 

"It's worth a shot," Mirage added, "And Sunny's not scared. Between the two of you--"

"I'm not _scared_ ," said Sideswipe, stomping his pede on the floor like a youngling. "You know what? Fine. I'll do it. But I'm not grounding Thundercracker or Starscream. I'd like to keep my helm intact."

Jazz nodded, easy smile coloring his face. "Glad to hear it, Sides. I'll talk to 'Jack, see if he can find a way to jam Skywarp's warp signal, keep 'im from jumping. Mirage?"

The white mech blinked, glancing across the table at his superior officer. 

"You're ground support," Jazz said. "Make sure the twins got everything they need." He paused, and then clapped Mirage on the shoulder. "Good job on this, mech. This could be big."

Mirage nodded once. "Yes, sir."

***

The twins followed Mirage down the hall of the Ark. Sideswipe nudged his arm into Mirage's, grinned. "So boss says you gotta make sure we have everything we need, huh, 'Raj?" Optics dimmed, tone light and teasing. "Whatcha think that entails?"

Sunstreaker sidled up on his other side, mirroring his twin's grin. "Yeah, 'Raj. You know what I think I need?"

Mirage leveled them each with a hard stare. "I'm still on shift," he said. It'd been three vorns since he first found himself in the twin's berth, not long on Cybertronian standards. But with each passing cycle he grew more and more fond of them. Mischievous glitches that they were, they made life interesting. "And I have some research to do."

Something like a scoff came out of Sideswipe's intake. "Nerd," he ex-vented.

"Yeah," said Sunstreaker. "Nerd."

"Glad you two finally agree on something." He knocked them both on the back of their helms, one servo for each, light enough to be clearly affectionate but hard enough to say _don't follow me_ , and left them in the hallway to squabble. The humans called it _playing hard to get_ , he remembered. Mirage made his way to the Spec Ops command center, sat himself down at a tall monitor and typed in a query: _Decepticon seekers_.

A list of known seeker designations filled the screen in alphabetical order: Acid Storm, Dirge, Thrust, Thundercracker. He clicked the blue seeker's name and the screen filled with hundreds of files. Reports from battles, incident reports, photographs-- Mirage selected a hyperlink titled "Personnel file." 

_Designation: Thundercracker  
Allegiance: Decepticon  
Frame-type: Seeker  
Age: ~67000 vorns_

Hm, Mirage thought. Not much older than the twins, as he expected. That meant they onlined shortly after the start of the war. A weird choice to make Starscream SIC, if that was the case, but Mirage supposed Megatron needed the air power badly enough to warrant it. Briefly, Mirage pictured one of the twins as Optimus's second-in-command. He suppressed a laugh at that, and figured maybe Starscream was older than his trinemates. Skywarp certainly wasn't. But before he could search the files for the Decepticon SIC, Mirage's thoughts were pulled from the monitor by a loud POP! resonating from somewhere on base. Gunfire? Mirage quickly onlined his weapons and jumped to his feet, heading back out into the hallway.

POP! 

He took off running as the sound carried through the halls of the Ark once again, and heard the footsteps of another behind him, leaving Spec Ops command to investigate just the same. Mirage skidded to a stop just outside of the lab. POP! he heard from inside, once more. Jazz arrived next, guns drawn. "You hear that, 'Raj?"

Mirage nodded. "What is it?"

"Got no fraggin' idea." With that, Jazz kicked open the door.

Inside, Wheeljack stood, covered helm to pedes in a gooey, pinkish substance. He gave the Spec Ops officer a sheepish wave, little smile on his faceplates. POP! The sound was loud and clear now, and accompanied by a flash of purple light from the air beside Wheeljack's head. "What's going on, 'Jack?" Jazz said. "What's that-- What is that?"

Wheeljack scratched his helm. "The warp equation is a little trickier than I expected," he said. "I tried it on an organic, and it-- Well, it popped."

Jazz's optics glowed bright. "You _tried it on an organic_?"

"Not a human!" Wheeljack quickly explained. "A bug! Just bugs. Butterflies, actually."

"And it popped," said Jazz.

In response, with a flash of purple light above their heads and a glimpse of colorful orange wings, a sticky goo coated Mirage and Jazz. 

Jazz groaned. "This might take longer than we thought."

"No, no," said Wheeljack. "I'm getting there. If I just had more data..." The scientist trailed off, pacing between his lab bench and his computer, all covered in butterfly goo. 

Behind them, loud pedes tromping down the hall, another gun. "Is everyone alright?" came the voice of Optimus Prime from the doorway. 

"Yeah, yeah," said Jazz, "Everybody's good here, Boss. 'Jack just blew up a bunch of butterflies trying to figure out the warp code."

Mirage looked at the Autobot leader and nodded. 

"Couldn't we try it on a non-living thing?" offered Optimus, frowning at the pinkish goo covering the lab. 

"Butterflies aren't sapient," said Wheeljack, "And they fly. The alternative was a bird. And I thought that might be messier." Wheeljack paced more, searching through files on his computer. "If we're going to jam Skywarp's warp device, we need more data."

More thudding footsteps. Prowl arrived next, gun drawn. "Is everyone alright? I heard gun--" He looked into the lab, taking in the scene before him, pink goo all over. "What _is_ that?"

"Melted butterfly," Mirage explained.

"Butterfly?"

"Clearly Skywarp doesn't melt when he warps," said Wheeljack. "Does he? Perhaps he does and isn't harmed. Do we have thermal imaging of him teleporting? Maybe the organics are just too flammable to do it..."

Jazz shook his head. "We don't have any video of it. I checked. It's hard to tell when he's gonna do it n' all."

"No," Wheeljack continued, unperturbed, "If it's heat-based, that jet-grade energon in his tanks would go up like a supernova. Wouldn't it?"

More footsteps. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe arrived next, guns drawn: "The frag's going on? We heard-- What's that?"

"'Jack's working on the warp equation," Mirage told them.

"Rhetorical questions," Wheeljack said as another pop of purple light sends pink goo across the lab. "I'll need more data, certainly. Jazz?"

Jazz ex-vented in exasperation. "Yes, 'Jack?"

"I need more data on Skywarp."

"I gave you all we have, 'Jack. He's a slippery carrierfragger."

"I need more data." Wheeljack said, pacing once again. 

Heavy pedes echoed down the hall. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Ratchet joined the crowd in the doorway, wrench in hand. "Is anyone hurt? I heard-- Oh, frag. What's the glitch doing now?"

"Killing butterflies," Sideswipe explained.

"The frag's a butterfly?" said Ratchet.

"I can go back to the Nemesis," said Mirage, optics flittering between Wheeljack and Jazz.

"Like frag you can!" said Sideswipe, "You barely got out safe last time!"

Jazz made a low humming sound, stroked his chin with his servo. "What sort of data you need, 'Jack?"

"Electromagnetic video footage," said Wheeljack. "Short and longwave. Of him teleporting. I need to see if it's temperature or gravity-based."

"Can't we get that next time we see 'em out at battle?" Sunstreaker said. "Then 'Raj doesn't hafta do anything dumb."

"Sure, if you don't mind getting shot at while filming," said Jazz.

Mirage cleared his intake, squared his shoulders. "I can go back in. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal my aft!" said Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker nodded earnestly. It was all Mirage could do not to laugh. In their past three vorns as lovers--no, friends-with-benefits, as their human allies would say--the twins showed affection through rough fragging and cruel pranks. But here they were, showing they cared about him enough to meddle in Spec Ops business. He wanted to reach out and pat Sunstreaker's helm, but he knew that would likely lead to the loss of his servo.

Jazz met Mirage's optics and nodded once, despite the twins' protesting. "I'll get you outfitted with the camera," he said. "Meet me at sun-up."

POP! went a butterfly above Wheeljack's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 preview:  
> "Mirage returns to the Nemesis. It doesn't go quite so well this time."


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirage returns to the Nemesis. It doesn't go quite so well this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of/allusions to canon-typical abuse in this chapter. Be safe!

Mirage, cloaked in invisibility, slipped into the quarters behind Thundercracker, just before the blue seeker shut the door. He took his place beside the far wall like last time, stepping carefully over strewn data pads and empty energon cubes. The seekers were messy, he noted, and their room reflected it. A rumpled figure on the berth sat up, looked at Thundercracker. "Where's 'Warp?" Starscream asked, optics onlining.

"Wash racks," said Thundercracker. "How you doing?"

Starscream scoffed, and Mirage was reminded briefly of Sunstreaker, just vorns earlier. "I'm fine," hissed Starscream. "I'd be better if you quit babying me. It was nothing."

"Your wing was practically torn off."

"And Knockout welded it back on. What's the big deal?"

Thundercracker sat on the berth, reached out and pressed a chaste kiss to Starscream's head. "I worry."

"Well, don't," said Starscream. He pulled a datapad out of his pile, tossed it toward Thundercracker. "New book for you. Pre-war. Rumble and Frenzy un-encrypted it."

"Hm," said the blue seeker, catching the datapad. "What's this one about?"

"I don't know," said Starscream, haughty. "I didn't _read_ it. Do you think I have time for that slag?"

"You had the time to take this long, luxurious nap today," said Thundercracker. 

"If you recall, my _wing_ was practically _torn off_." Starscream crossed his arms across his cockpit. "I require rest. Doctor's orders."

"Mhm, 'cause you're so good at following orders."

Starscream scoffed again, leveled his trine-mate-- _bond_ -mate, Mirage remembered--with his signature sneer. Another data-pad went flying from the bed toward Thundercracker's helm.

Thundercracker dodged this one, and it clattered against the wall of their quarters, landing on the floor with a soft thunk. He climbed across the berth to Starscream's side, reaching out and massaging his neck cables with one hand, placatingly. "You know I worry."

"I can handle myself," said Starscream, not responding to the touch.

"You don't have to, though."

"Frag off."

"Nope."

 _Vop_. A flash of purple light--Mirage half expected a rain of pink goo--and there arrived Skywarp on the end of the berth, freshly polished and shiny. Mirage tried to take the hyperspectral camera out of his subspace--Too slow. Skywarp swung his pedes and flicked his wings up and down at his bond-mates as Mirage aimed the camera his way, just in case. "How's my Star?" said Skywarp. "Bond feels less ouch now! That's good!"

"TC's being overbearing," Starscream said, at the same time Thundercracker said, "Star's being a brat."

Skywarp grinned big. "See? I told you guys you'd be slagged without me. I bring _balance_."

Muffled protests from the other two rung out as Skywarp climbed across the berth and draped himself across their laps. "Who wants to get smashed and smash?" said Skywarp, pulling three cubes of high-grade from his subspace. Mirage nearly laughed--he'd only seen them twice now, and both times acting like they're fresh out of the Academy.

"I don't," said Thundercracker. "Not if you're gonna use squishie slang."

Skywarp huffed, pulled himself away from his blue mate and closer to Starscream, nuzzeling affectionately into his wing. "Fine," he said. "More for me and Star."

And to Mirage's surprise, Starscream--the terror of the skies, the Decepticon second-in-command, nightmare of new Autobot recruits--nuzzeled back. It was all fun and games for a while. Innocent cuddling. Passing cubes back and forth. All the while, Mirage kept his camera trained on Skywarp, just in case the purple mech pulled a butterfly. Thundercracker caved and joined in eventually, a pile of seekers on three berths pushed together in the center of the room. And then the voices got a little lower, the optics get a little dimmer, and Mirage started to feel distinctly like an intruder--which he was--but this felt different, he shouldn't be here. He wanted out of this room, as soon as possible. The door was across the room, and the seekers were between him and it. Holding his breath, hoping they were too busy with one another to notice him, Mirage made a break for it.

And promptly tripped over a discarded energon cube that he was sure wasn't there before. He clattered to the floor loudly, shedding his invisibility on the way down. He heard a screech. Yelling. "What the frag was that?" The zap of a null ray in his back and then everything went dark.

***

Mirage woke up in a dark room, silver metal walls marred with scratches of rust and energon. There's a low whir around him. A mirror in front of him-- two-way, he knew. It's just scratched enough that he made out the silhouettes on the other side: three mechs. Tall and lanky. Short and broad. Small and triangle-shaped, arms crossed. The third silhouette made exaggerated motions as they talk. Tall and lanky reached forward, flips a switch, and a light turns on above Mirage's head.

Mirage took in his surroundings. Stasis cuffs on his arms and legs. Three cold metal chairs, one under Mirage's body. Cold metal table. The room was small, he thought, like a closet revamped into an interrogation suite. Beside the two-way mirror, a heavy door opened up and in stepped the Decepticon interrogator. Barricade. Behind the mirror, tall and lanky and small and triangle-shaped remained. So this was short and broad, Mirage thought.

"Okay, tower brat." Despite the insult, Barricade spoke in a surprisingly even tone, sitting in a chair on the other side of the table. "We can make this easy."

Mirage scoffed, turning his head away. 

Barricade crossed his legs, certainly a difficult maneuver for such a wide mech. "I don't have to hurt you."

"So you're playing good cop today, Decepticon?" Mirage rolled his optics, pointed toward the two-way mirror with his face-plates. "Who's bad cop back there? Shockwave?"

"Wrong 'Wave," Barricade said, and Mirage's energon ran cold. He'd never faced the unnerving psychic Communications Officer one-on-one before. He'd heard stories from other Autobots after prisoner exchanges, frayed wires and helmaches. "If you don't want him peeling every bit of information out of your helm," the large mech continued, "then you're better off dealing with me." He paused, situating himself in the chair. And then he asked, "What were you doing in Starscream's quarters?" 

Mirage said nothing.

"As you can imagine," Barricade said, "the seekers are pissed. About ready to murder you by the time Soundwave intervened. You don't want me letting Starscream in here to rip you limb from limb, do you, brat?"

Mirage said nothing.

Barricade stood up, pacing the length of the interrogation room--only four or five strides for the mech. "There's no point in keeping your mouth shut. Not like your soft-sparked Prime is gonna beat you for squealing." Was there a hint of wistfulness in Barricade's voice, or was that the leftover effect of the null rays on Mirage's processors? "Soundwave will find out everything, whether you talk or not. Everything."

Mirage said nothing. At first. And then he considered all he knew: not about war plans--he wasn't an officer, and there wasn't much in his processor that could be a danger to the Autobots. However, there was plenty in his processor that could be a danger to the seekers he'd spent the morning watching. He thought of Thundercracker's death threats, the genuine timber in his voice when he said _I am going to kill him_ , and he figured that especially wouldn't sit with Megatron well. Not to mention the stolen high-grade, and the bond--did Megatron know about the bond? If Soundwave got into his head, Mirage thought, the seekers were as good as dead, and the mission was over. So he cleared his intake, held his chin in the air. "I was sent to search for a weapon," Mirage said. "Intel suggested Starscream was involved in the building."

The truth, but not the whole truth. If the Communications Officer behind the glass was searching his processor for sincerity, he would find it.

Barricade raised his optic ridges. "And what did you find out?"

"Nothing," Mirage said. "His data pads are jibberish and the trine arrived before I could finish reading."

Barricade sat back down in his chair, leveled Mirage with a hard stare. "We found a camera in your subspace. Care to explain that?"

"I'm no scientist." Mirage stretched out his pedes, trying to appear calm. "If I found notes on a weapon, it would be obvious if I stole them. So I'd take a photo."

Barricade stared. "Why not do that with your processor, instead of a _thermal imaging unit_?"

Mirage shrugged, ex-vented. "Fine. You got me. You figured me out, oh great interrogator. Optimus Prime wanted seeker porn."

In Barricade's defense, he tried not to laugh. He pressed his lip plates together. Steeled his face. But it didn't last long until he was doubled-over in his metal chair, practically guffawing at the mental image of Optimus Prime and a pornographic video. "You're a terrible liar," said Barricade.

"Well, yes," said Mirage. "It was a terrible lie."

"Look, brat." Barricade glanced back at the windows, where the triangle-figure (Starscream, Mirage surmised) and the lanky figure (certainly Soundwave) were engaged in their own conversation, not paying attention. "I'm willing to strike up a deal with you. _Accidentally_ leave your stasis cuffs offline. Just as long as you get something to the Ark for me."

Mirage's optics brightened. "Seriously?"

Barricade nodded his helm, lowered his voice. "Yeah. But first I gotta smack you in the head so they think I tried." 

Before Mirage could process that, there was a flash of gray servos coming toward him, an explosion of pain between his optics--Barricade may have warned him, but he certainly didn't pull his punch--and then the Decepticon interrogator was stalking from the room, hackles raised. The door slammed behind him and he met the other two behind the two-way mirror. As they walked away, silhouttes disappearing from his view, Mirage heard the low hum of his stasis cuffs offlining.

Now or never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 sneak peek: Mirage is given a confusing package to deliver, and One Butterfly Survives.


	4. IV.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update! Here is chapter 4--a bit shorter than the past ones but I didn't want to leave you guys waiting too long!
> 
> Mirage is given a confusing package to deliver, and One Butterfly Survives.

Mirage commed the Ark as soon as he was on the beach, water dripping from his frame. He cursed the earth and its stupid corrosive oceans, full of rust-inducing salt and organisms tiny enough to get stuck in even the smallest mech's cables. A ground-bridge opened, and not a moment too soon. He heard the roar of jet engines overhead. 

Mirage didn't even look up to see which seekers were after him. Instead, he transformed into alt-mode and floored it through the ground bridge, tires squealing on the ark floor as he spun to a stop and transformed back. He could feel the package from Barricade in his subspace, a metal cube, welded so the top opened like a cardboard box. If he'd had a spare moment, he'd have checked to see what was inside, what was so important that Barricade give it to an enemy prisoner to give to the _enemy second-in-command_. Instead, Mirage had just scanned the box to ensure it wasn't a bomb or tracking device and left the Nemesis as fast as he could.

Jazz met him outside the groundbridge with an easy smile. "Nice negotiatin', 'Raj. It's not often a mech gets caught _and_ escapes the same cycle."

Mirage shook water out of his digits. "It wasn't easy."

"Your faceplates okay? You got a mean dent under your optic."

He brought a hand up to his faceplates, frowned. "Barricade."

"Go to Ratchet," said Jazz. "We'll meet after."

"I'm fine," said Mirage.

Jazz leveled him with a hard stare, then nodded. "If you insist." The two SpecOps officers walked side by side to their shared office space, pede-steps silent. They made it halfway down the hall like that, only to be interrupted by a loud _vop_ and a flash of purple light. Both mechs put their hands over their heads, prepared for a rain of butterfly goo. But instead, an orange-and-black butterfly quietly fluttered on by down the hall. With a second _vop_ , it was gone. 

The SpecOps officers slowly removed their hands from their heads, and glanced at one another. It seemed Wheeljack was making progress, even without the hyperspectral footage. 

**

 _Meanwhile, on the Nemesis_...

**

Starscream paced the length of their shared quarters, ranting and raving, wings pointed straight up at the ceiling. Thundercracker and Skywarp, seated on the berth, shared a look and a series of wing flicks. Starscream ended his rant with a declaration: "We need to kill him."

Skywarp let his faceplates quirk into something like a smile, reminded of Thundercracker's voice just days earlier. But the source of Starscream's ire (for once) wasn't Megatron. Instead:

"He can't be an easy mech to kill, Star," said Thundercracker, voice a low rumble as usual. "He's invisible, after all. We didn't even know he was in our quarters."

Skywarp fluttered his wings, something like a shiver. "Remember those ghost stories? In Vos? Remember the one about the _spooky voyeur_? What if it was just Mirage? What if he's got a seeker fetish?"

Starscream scoffed. "Cloudspirit was not a _spooky voyeur_ , Skywarp! Vosian dieties aren't _ghosts_. And they're certainly not Autobots!"

Thundercracker, meanwhile, rolled a strip of fabric between his servos. "How much do you think he saw?"

"Enough," Starscream said.

"Enough?" Thundercracker parroted.

"So what if he knows we're bonded," said Skywarp. "Auto-slaggers got soft sparks, anyway. What's he gonna do, comm Megsy?" Skywarp put on a fake Towers accent, continued on: " _Hullo, Megatron. This is Mirage, a spy of your sworn enemy. I just wanted to let you know that I think your three best seekers are fragging. Did you know about that? Hope that is okay with you. Okay. Farewell, then._ "

"I'm not worried about _Megatron_ ," Starscream sneered, subconsciously bringing a hand up to stroke the edge of his recently reattached wing. Thundercracker reached out and met his hand there, gently massaging the seam where the wing had been broken, just days before. Starscream relaxed only slightly before carrying on. "I'm more worried about Prime. They'll find a way to use this against us. I'm sure of it."

**

 _Meanwhile, back on the Ark_...

**

Jazz blew air out his nose. "They're bonded? All three of 'em?"

Mirage nodded. 

The SpecOps commander pressed his servos together in a triangle shape, a dark smile crossing his faceplates. "I'm sure we can find a way to use this to our advantage."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 sneak peek: an attempt to ground a seeker occurs


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attempt to ground a seeker occurs.

The first half of the battle was a typical one, and Mirage wondered when they got to the point in the war when mechs slicing and firing at each other was _typical_. Still, he followed his part of the plan to the tee. His part finished, the white mech phased into invisibility and ducked behind a large rock, ready to tag in and help the twins if the grounding went poorly.

For all their big talk, there had been a sort of nervous tension that morning. Sunstreaker and Sidewsipe shifted from pede to pede when Wheeljack handed them the finished blocking device. Optimus gave the mission his blessing. Jazz briefed the team. And Prowl's faceplates turned a strange shade of pink as he peered into the box Mirage had given him. For all the strange players and nerves, the plan was simple: jump on Skywarp's wings, slap the device somewhere near his helm, and shove him toward the earth. They'd captured seekers just that way dozens of times over the course of the war--with the exception of the warp blocking device as a factor.

Mirage watched the twins ready their jet packs. So far, the only seekers on the scene of the energon raid were the cone-heads. They flew a somewhat erratic course, wings bobbing up and down, nearly bumping into one another more than once. Mirage remembered the note in Starscream's desk, briefly-- _Coneheads glitching, send to med bay_. He figured with all the excitement of the past few days--his own fault, really-- the coneheads never did make it to their appointment with Knockout. Mirage looked up and suspected it would only be a few minutes until Megatron recognized the caliber of the Autobots defending the energon mine and sent in his elite team to replace the spacey bozos overhead.

Just in time: three seekers appeared overhead with a _vop_ of magenta, rolling into an effortless, simultaneous transformation into alt-mode, thrusters onlining, thundering across the sky. Mirage wasn't a jealous mech. But to cut across space so effortlessly seemed like a blessing, he had to admit.

Megatron called the retreat as expected, sending most of his army back toward the Nemesis with subspaces full of energon. He left his head seeker trine in the air to secure the area, as usual, ensure the Autobots didn't follow. 

It was time.

He watched Sideswipe and Sunstreaker bump fists and ignite their jetpacks. They took to the sky in a wobbly, spindly gate, blowing spirals of smoke behind them as they took off. Nothing like the tidy display of the seekers before them. But in spite of its lack of finesse, it worked. Sideswipe smashed into the purple seeker's chassis, and Sunstreaker worked a collision course for Starscream's right wing. There was the squealing of metal, barrel rolls overhead, smoke. Mirage covered his ears, anticipating a sonic blast from Thundercracker, but none came. He figured the blue seeker was too worried about harming his trine-mates to activate his gifts.

Starscream and Skywarp, however, held no such caution. The two seekers, each quickly losing altitude as the front-liners hung onto their backs, spiraled around to face each other, sent fuel to their thrusters, and went hurtling toward one another at a dizzying pace. It was like a high-speed game of chicken, and neither seemed keen to alter course. Mirage remembered a battle, months ago, when this happened. He remembered the twins bailing out with only yards to go between the two seekers. And then, as soon as the front-liners fell back to earth, _vop!_ , Skywarp popped out of the way, allowing Starscream to hurtle by unharmed.

Except, Mirage realized, now there would be no _vop!_.

He commed the twins urgently. ::Bail out! Bail out now!::

No response.

He could imagine it, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe engaged in the same game as the seekers. No, you jump off. No, _you_ jump off, and so on and so forth. 

Starscream altered course at the last second, hurriedly trying to pull up when it was clear Skywarp wasn't about to teleport, but it wasn't enough. All four mechs smashed into each other at dizzying speeds, Skywarp's left wing tearing into Starscream's midsection. Smoke, fire, energon igniting in the sky. Skywarp spun out of alt-mode as he fell to earth, trying desperately to maintain altitude with one wing, and failing. Above the others, Starscream, apparently unconcious, took a nose-dive in alt mode, hurtling toward earth at a fatal velocity, sure to land in a fiery explosion enough to kill anyone unfortunate enough to be within several hectares.

Beneath them, the twins plummeted like rocks.

The only thing that saved all four from offlining was Thundercracker, diving to pull Starscream out of his death spiral, lifting him back to altitude and igniting his thrusters. But the Air Commander was too heavy, and the two fell at a gradual angle, knocking the tops off the trees as they went, lower and lower, finally skidding toward earth in a carefully maneuvered crash landing several kilometers away.

Just ahead of Mirage's post under the rocks, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and Skywarp hit the earth like meteors. _Thunk_ , thunk, _thunk_. He rushed forward to check the twins for injuries.

Sunstreaker, apparently no worse for the wear, brushed him off, rolling over, climbing over his brother's moaning form to pin Skywarp to the dirt, spewing colorful insults in Cybertronian standard. He lifted the dazed seeker by the shoulders, smashed his helm to the ground, and was primed to do it again when Optimus intervened with a heavy blue hand on his shoulder. "That's enough," said the Autobot leader. "Sunstreaker, carry your brother back to base. Mirage, carry Skywarp. Jazz, Prowl, and I are going after the other two."

Sunstreaker grumbled, but relented, dropping Skywarp and moving instead to his brother's side. "Get up, Sides."

"Mmmmmph," said the red front-liner.

"I don't want to carry you all the way back to base," said his twin. "And I can tell through the bond. You're not hurt _that_ bad."

Meanwhile, Mirage looked at the unconscious seeker before him. One wing missing, the other bent nearly in half from the impact above, faceplates askew from the crash-landing. He lifted the purple mech up off the ground, and was surprised how light he was. The seeker was average-size for his frame-type, a little taller than Mirage, but must have weighed half what a similarly-sized grounder would. Mirage assumed that was to better achieve flight. 

"Can't believe we have to fragging _walk_ back to base," said Sunstreaker, sidling up beside Mirage. Sideswipe rode piggyback on his shoulders, optics offlining and onlining, head lolling with his brother's movements. "Idiot seekers."

Mirage shrugged. "You grounded all three of them."

In the distance, maybe two kilometers out, they heard a sonic boom. Trees lost their leaves, birds took to the skies. Even as far out as they were, Mirage felt the reverberations in his frame. "Guess Prime found the other two," said Sunstreaker. He peered over Mirage's shoulder, looking at the frame in his arms. "He looks cute all half-dead. Less vicious. You think they're really gonna join our side?"

"It depends," said Mirage. 

"On?"

"What we do," said Mirage. "What they do."

Sunstreaker scoffed. "How very insightful of you, SpecOps." He adjusted his brother--now mostly unconscious--positioning him more steadily on his back, quickening his pace. "They better be grateful, you know, that we did all this slag to save 'em from Buckethelm. Sides practically lost an arm in that crash."

Mirage cycled his optics, glanced at the yellow mech on Sunstreaker's back. "I thought you said he wasn't hurt bad."

"I mean," said Sunny, "He's not gonna offline or nothing. But I commed Ratchet to get the medbay ready for four."

"What about you?"

"I'm alright."

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine, 'Raj."

Mirage paused, turned to examine the mech beside him. "You fell the exact same way as the others."

"It's not about falling, it's about _landing_ ," said Sunstreaker. "I landed on Sides. He's soft."

"Primus."

"Hey, he owed me one!" said Sunstreaker. "He knocked my easel over last orn, while the paints were still drying. Ruined the whole piece."

"So you landed on him."

"All's fair, 'Raj," said Sunstreaker.

They walked for several joors before the Ark came into view in the distance. Ratchet--in alt-mode--drove out to meet them. They loaded Skywarp and Sideswipe into the back of the ambulance and transformed, whirring toward base. Once there, Mirage transformed and looked back toward the battlefield, setting his optics to 100x zoom. He saw the bulky figure of Optimus Prime in alt-mode, speeding their way, stirring up dust from the desert floor. Behind him, Jazz, arm on the back of Thundercracker's torso. The blue jet's arms and wings were held in stasis cuffs. Despite the earlier sonic boom, there wasn't a scratch on Thundercracker. Mirage parsed through the information in his head: surrender, on the condition that Starscream received medical care? It seemed likely. Either way, he watched a groundbridge open before the group, and expected he'd see them in the Ark soon.

They anticipated one seeker's capture. And here were all three in custody. Mirage wasn't sure whether this was a roaring success, or a major complication.

***

Back on the Nemesis, Soundwave entered the throne room, bowing low before Megatron. 

"Soundwave," said Megatron, idly. Seated on the throne, he sipped a cube of energon, fresh from the raid. "What is it?"

"Seekers: captured."

Megatron in-vented, ex-vented. "Which one this time?"

"Answer: command trine."

"Yes, that's clear from the context, Soundwave," said the Decepticon leader. "Which _one_?"

"Answer: all of them." 

Megatron stared. He squeezed his cube in his fist until it cracked. He offlined his optics for ten or twenty kliks. Then, he opened them and said, "Open negotiations with the Prime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peek chapter 6:  
> The seekers are not grateful.


	6. VI.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The seekers are not grateful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Been busy. I'm going to try to get back to my original Saturday post schedule next weekend

Jazz and Mirage stood against the wall outside the brig, passing a cube of high grade back and forth as Thundercracker recharged within. Upstairs in the medbay, there was a cacophony of noise, stomping pedes, equipment thrown to-and-fro and yells from Ratchet's vocalizer. The SpecOps officer and his soldier were glad to be out of the way. "If Starscream offlines, we're pretty screwed," said Jazz. "Can't imagine the others'll be keen on defecting then."

"He won't offline," said Mirage, passing the cube back to his commander.

Jazz let a little laugh out of his chest, stressed by the day's events. "You sound pretty sure of that."

"Ratchet gets quiet when a mech's about to die," said Mirage. "Besides, I read their files. He's survived worse."

"Worse than a wing going half through his abdominal cables?"

Mirage shrugged, taking the cube back. "Seekers are tougher than they look, I guess."

"I should check their files," said Jazz. "You making me look bad, mech, doing your homework."

Mirage laughed.

"Anything notable in there, besides Prowl's asinine notes?"

Mirage shrugged. "They're pretty young."

Jazz looked at the ceiling. "Yeah, I remember that. Not much older than 'Bee, right?"

"Right."

"Well, they ain't getting special treatment from me 'cause of that, that's for damn sure. You don't see Bumblebee going around committing war crimes left and right."

Mirage pushed a humming sound out of his vocalizer. They'd all done their part to maintain Bumblebee's innocence over the vorns for as long as they could, but the young mech had already killed his fair share of Decepticons. If they were to go on human standards of war crimes, all surviving Cybertronians were guilty, as far as Mirage knew.

"And _you_ better not give 'em special treatment either, 'Raj, you hear me?" said Jazz, fixing his teammate with a firm stare. "We all need to be on the same page here if this is gonna work."

Mirage pressed his lip plates together and looked at his commanding officer. "But if we want them to defect, isn't special treatment what they need?"

"Yeah, well, they ain't lost cyber-puppies. They're seekers. Deadly ones." Jazz ex-vented hard enough that Mirage felt the air stir. "We want 'em here to get 'em away from Megatron. Not to save 'em or any of that slag. Don't forget it." He put his servos on his hips, expression softening, and added, "I don't wanna see you or anybody else on our team gettin' hurt 'cause of this half-baked plan. Having one of those seekers on our hands would've been bad enough. Now we got all three."

Mirage almost scoffed. "I'll be careful, Jazz."

"You'd better," said the SpecOps officer.

Mirage turned away. Then he paused. Turned back. "Jazz?"

"Hm?"

"What's the deal with Prowl and Barricade?"

Jazz burst out laughing, steadying himself with his servos on his thighs. He wheezed, "What's the--deal--with--? Hahhh! Oh Primus, mech. Wouldn't we all like to fraggin' know?"

Mirage bristled, prepared with follow-up questions, but the sound of someone stirring in the cell behind them pulled him to attention immediately. Jazz and Mirage turned to see Thundercracker, uncurling from his recharge-ball, rubbing his optics. "You're a loud fragging laugher," the blue seeker grumbled, voice low like Mirage remembered.

"Mornin', sweetspark," said Jazz, layering on his thickest sarcasm. "Sleep well?"

Mirage watched Thundercracker's wings stretch out from his back, undoubtedly to make himself seem bigger. For a seeker, Thundercracker was large. He was probably used to being around shorter mechs. But on the Ark, he was a head or so below most ground-model frames who walked the halls. The blue seeker put on a monotone voice, "How are my trine-mates?"

"Your _bond_ -mates?" said Jazz, faceplates turning into an impish smile. "You mean you can't feel them through your _bond_?"

Thundercracker's optics grew wide, and he ex-vented something like a cough into his closed fist. Then, with a haughty expression that rivaled his trine-mates, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, cut the slag, seeker," said Jazz. "Why're you all so secretive about it, anyway? What's the point? I'd figure being bonded's good for dogfights."

Thundercracker glared.

"Tell me why the hush-hush, and I'll tell you what's going on upstairs," said Jazz, curving his lip-plates into a sickly-sweet smile.

Thundercracker glared still, for moments more. Then, finally, just when Mirage thought they should give up, he spoke. "Megatron's a little possessive of Star," he said. "He doesn't want him bonded unless it's to him."

Jazz's smile fell off his face. "Hm," he said. 

Mirage, meanwhile, felt little puzzle pieces pulling together in his mind: all the infighting over the vorns in Decepticon command, all the purported murder attempts by Starscream, Thundercracker's fury toward their leader. "Hm," he echoed his commander. 

Jazz looked down at the seeker, seated on the floor of the Ark brig behind glowing stasis bars. "Why don't you leave, then?" he said. "Go someplace you three can be a happy little trine?"

Thundercracker scoffed. "Like with the Autobots? Sure, sure. I'll die before I kiss Prime's aft like the rest of you idiots. _Freedom is the right of all sentient beings_. As long as they're the right frame-type!" He rolled his optics, and Mirage briefly remembered the blue mech's age.

"Functionalism died with our planet," said Jazz, crossing his arms across his chassis.

"Oh, yeah? Let me hear the tower brat say that."

Mirage widened his optics. Blinked. He was used to observing these conversations from afar, listening in like a cassette on the bulkhead, and being suddenly pulled in to speak caught him on his back pede. "Functionalism... died with our planet?" he said.

"Mhm," said Thundercracker. "You sound so sure of that."

Jazz ex-vented, shot Mirage a look like _good going_ , and placed his servos on his hips. "It's not like you three are having a great time with Megatron. I've read the reports. Mirage has _seen_ what he does to your screechy lover."

Thundercracker's expression soured first, then softened. "Look," he said, flaring his wings, "I'd desert. Defect to you guys? No way. But I'd leave him. If this is all some big ploy to get us to stop firing holes through your frontliners, it's Skywarp and Starscream you need to convince."

_Meanwhile, in the medbay_

"I'll never leave the Decepticons until the day I fragging offline!" screamed Skywarp, lashing out with his claws fully extended. He resembled a startled cyber-cat, Sunstreaker thought, moving in jerky motions and pausing every so often, blinking hard and releasing lines of static, attempting to activate his warp drive and getting blocked by the device on his head. Sunstreaker managed to wrestle him back to the medical berth, but not without catching a claw to the faceplate, drawing a thin line of energon out from under his eye. 

"Fragging Primus," said Sunstreaker, throwing a desperate glance to Ratchet, who was a bed away working on patching Starscream's torn chassis. "Can't you sedate him?"

"I _have_ ," said the CMO. "We need to wait for it to take affect, and I don't want to overdose him."

Skywarp released another spurt of static through his dente, thrashing against them, before suddenly--almost violently--going still. He dropped to the berth, head on the pillow, and dozed with the contented expression of an innocent sparkling.

Sunstreaker stepped back, touching a servo to his bleeding faceplate. "Primus," he said again. "Like a fragging animal. I'll get him in stasis cuffs before he wakes up again."

Ratchet nodded, igniting his welder and fastening Starscream's shoulder joint back together.

"Ratch," said Sunstreaker as he snapped a pair of stasis cuffs on Skywarp's wrists, "What the frag are we gonna do with these three glitches? We don't have space or resources for all of them."

"Maybe Skywarp here can stay in your room," said Ratchet without looking up from his work. 

Sunstreaker laughed, despite himself. He stood up straighter, stretched his servos and glanced across the medbay. "Hey, you good here, Ratch? These two are out for the count, so I'm gonna go check on Sides, if that's alright."

"Yeah," said Ratchet, half in his own mind. "All good here. Bye."

"I'll bring you an energon cube when I come back," said Sideswipe, and he left.

Just as the door shut behind Sideswipe, as the echo of his pede-steps faded down the hall, Skywarp's eyes snapped open. He laid still for a moment, keeping his optics dim, and he probed Starscream across the bond, one word: _Awake_?

Starscream responded, _Evidently Autobots don't know how to properly dose a seeker_.

Skywarp: _Plan?_

Starscream kept his optics shut, feeling the warm sting of the welding gun along his side. _The groundpounder will be back. We have a few kliks, max. You can't warp. We don't know where TC is._

Skywarp waited, staring at the orange-colored ceiling above his head.

After a moment, Starscream continued, _The medic is valuable. You jump him from behind. I take his throat. There's a syringe full of sedative on the table by my left servo. We knock him out, tie him up, exchange him for TC and our freedom._

Skywarp felt himself nod, then disguised it as a shudder. _Megatron won't even have to negotiate!_ he said through the bond, thoughts lathered in pride.

Starscream said, _On my count. One, two..._


End file.
